My "brush with death"

The Lonely Planet's "South-East Asia on a Shoestring" guide lists ten items which make you a South-East asian veteran, including being able to walk through a pack of stray dogs without flinching, find an internet connection in the smallest places, and being able to list more than one near death experience.

The flaming petrol tanker in Ulan Bator was probably one, and I now have another to add to the list.

In Tuk Tuk, the resort town on Pulau Samosir, the largest island-within-an-island in the world, we could see a waterfall outside town which we thought we'd walk to. As we approached the cliff locals pointed the way, clearly many tourists had passed this way before. The path got steadily steeper and more slippery and Steve very sensibly (as it turns out) decided to turn back. I pressed on although I was a bit wary when the path

The Americans struggle down

a difficult part of the route

turned out to be a stream bordered by a narrow row of rocks, cliff face to one side and drop to the other. I made it up without incident though and near the top the path looked even more precipitous, necessitating scrambling and climbing over rocks to get to the falls themselves. I would have turned back but then I saw a bag and two pairs of shoes which earlier climbers had clearly abandoned there to make the final climb easier, so I pressed on, also having to abandon shoes near the top, and met Americans Mina (half Iranian and repeatedly subject to demands for her hand in marriage on the streets in Indonesia due to her "ideal of Asian beauty" looks - i.e. pale skin) and Carolyn and their Indonesian guide Athan. The falls were nice and after a rest, we all turned back together. I was faster than the others so soon found myself ahead.

I must say at this point that I wasn't hurrying in a dangerous way, just walking briskly as I do. I am sure that what happened was just bad luck, if I had been walking more slowly it would still have happened. I basically stepped down from a stone onto the path with my left foot, and the wet ground crumbled away beneath my foot, taking me with it.

I remember thinking "I'm falling", then momentarily panicking, then it all stopped pretty quickly. I fell feet first, there was nothing at all to grab onto even if I'd had time to think of it. What happened was I fell onto a looped triple-stranded liana and basically ended up suspended in it, my feet dangling as I ended up straddling the liana like a rope swing. As I finished falling I collected myself and my first thought was that I was physically unhurt apart from a graze on my left foot where my sandal had been wrenched partially off and a scratch up the inside of my leg (I was wearing a skirt) where the liana had scraped up as it caught me. Then I realised I wasn't moving, the liana was holding

This is the very unimpressive cliff I fell down.

The camera really doesn't do it justice...

me firm and that it looked like I should be able to climb back up. Then I am ashamed to say I noted with pleasure that my camera, which was in my skirt pocket, was still there (strange how this was a concern when facing falling to your death!)

Below me the ground sloped steeply away down to the stream - if I hadn't become entangled in the liana I probably would have hit the slope about 2m below where I was, then rolled down the slope some way before hitting a tree. As it was I was maybe 3m below the level of the path.

I yelled "hello" several times because I knew the Americans wouldn't be far away, and I had a crazy idea that maybe their guide was carrying a rope (deluding myself that I was in safety conscious Europe for a moment). After 30 seconds their guide appeared on the path (ropeless of course) and announced that he was coming down to help. I knew that was going to be much more dangerous and that I could climb out myself so I told him to just wait at the top, I just wanted some helpful hands at the top to grab me if necessary.

Climbing out was easy enough once I'd put my sandal back on and swung around in my liana loop so I could get a foothold, and at the top Athan had a hand out to help me onto the path. I probably could have made it back alone but it was good to have someone there. Physically I was fine but the adrenaline was pumping and I knew I needed to get down to Steve quickly as he would be worried I had taken so long. As I continued down the path I slipped again - this time on a slippery rock as I hurried, but this was a calculated risk on a flat path, and there was no cliff to fall off at this point, so I just landed on my bottom feeling stupid.

When I got down to Steve he was about to call me to see where I was. I couldn't stop grinning, I was just so glad to be alive. Covered in mud though and people we passed later laughed at me which made me a bit annoyed. Later that evening we went to meet the Americans to buy their guide a drink for helping me but he is a Jehovah's witness and didn't want one!

I can't say for sure how close I came to something bad happening but I know if I hadn't become entangled in that liana I would have had a worse impact injury when I landed, instead of just a scratch where it caught me.

Not that muddy really considering I fell down a

cliff, but look at the grin you couldn't wipe off my face.

Indonesia at Ramadan

Just after Steve's photo blog we popped into the Batu Caves: a Hindu temple set in a massive cave just outside KL. A cheeky monkey (we later found out it is a long-tailed macaque) terrorised Steve into handing over his drinks can - it tried it on with my camera too - not sure what it planned to do with that (!)

Then back to Penang for the ferry journey to Indonesia. We stupidly missed our drop off on Penang island and only realised when we started to head back over the bridge to the mainland. By this time it was 12 midnight and when we were finally able to stop we were a good hour away from our booked accommodation. Fortunately another couple (from Brunei/Dubai) had been equally stupid and had also missed the stop and we shared a taxi back to Penang island, finally arriving at 1.30 in the morning. It looked like a party was going on at the beach resort of Batu Ferringhi (it was the eve of Malaysian independence day), and what with that going on outside our window, motorbikes revving up and the call to prayer from the next-door mosque from 4am to 5.30am, you can imagine how much sleep we got. No matter though as a day on the beach passed sweetly (though another night was interrupted by the mosque).

The ferry to Indonesia set off on the 1st September, the first day of Ramadan. I was a little wary about eating or drinking in public, but fortunately I spotted people eating and drinking early on so felt relaxed about it pretty soon. On the ferry we met Jurgen, a swiss ski instructor who spends half the year entertaining ski students and half the year entertaining the rest of the world on his travels, and Leo, a teenager rich from experiencing 6 months in India (next time for us perhaps...) who was travelling with his guitar. The ferry was fast but airtight and super-cooled by air conditioning, the jumpers came out on the way. Half way both Steve and I were convinced we were going to throw up as the tossing and turning got too much (others did) but we made it to Indo stomach contents intact in the end!

The first thing that happened over the Straits of Malacca was we got conned into buying a bus ticket to Medan (we'd been told it was included in the ferry price) - but we didn't seem to have much choice in it since we were stranded at the port. The night out in Medan was an interesting experience. Medan has an edge - and we were definitely targets. In the Ramadan market after dark we met Stella, an English student (here with Leo). She couldn't believe I was 31 (bless her). We walked for half an hour to find a place selling beer. I've never had to look so hard for alcohol but I guess that's Ramadan in a Muslim city.

The next morning, after the third night in a row woken by a call-to-prayer at 4am we made like trees and got the hell out of Medan to Bukit Lewang.

The way it works in Bukit Lewang is this: Touts hang out outside Medan and check on each bus to Bukit Lewang to see if there are any westerners on board. If there are, they board the bus and make conversation with the westerners. You are then their property for the duration of your stay in Bukit Lewang and they will try to convince you to go to their hotel and to go on their trek. If you comply, all is lovely. If you use another guide, or if you don't want to go on a trek, all hell breaks loose. Luckily for us, we did want to do a trek, so we just took the path of least resistance. In the end it all worked out well as Ali and his brother made our trek really enjoyable. Ali calls himself Bruce Lee.

He wore a red bandana and smoked A LOT. So did Jose (our trek companion, the almost horizontally laid back Puerto-Rican American who'd been teaching English in Hunan province where eagle-eyed readers will recall we had also been in China - so we had stuff to talk about). We last saw Jose heading off to meet a drug dealer in Bukit Lewang so we hope he's not now in someone's car boot!

Basically the "trek" involved walking around in circles looking for Orang-Utans before wandering to a campsite on the bend of a river, then chilling out for hours before dinner and bed, then waking up, chilling some more before heading down river on "tubes". It was cool, though some other tourists were disappointed by the fact it wasn't a trek so much as a walk down pre-determined paths to a well established campsite. We saw it more as a camping trip to see Orang-Utans so thought it was great.

We saw four Orang-Utans, including a mother and child. All were semi-wild, in other words they had been rescued and re-released. This is great for tourists taking photos as they hang around humans in the hope they will get some food. One tried to steal our lunch so we had to leave her behind. Orang-Utans are like very laid back humans. They just chill out all day, hang around (literally) and when it rains they stay in their nests and hold big leaves over themselves to stay dry. Very sensible.

Next stop we decided, was Berastagi. This is a hill town about 2 hours from Medan, which meant we had to go back through the horrible place. We stumbled upon a market in Bukit Lewang by the bus station where big wodges of rubber from the rubber plantations were for sale. Also lots of fruit, fresh and dried fruit etc.

Anyway, we got into and out of Medan as fast as we possibly could, but this was not that quick since we needed to get some cash. We found an ATM, but it was broken, so I headed off to find another while Steve guarded our bags. Every five metres someone would say "Hey miss / mister (depending on how observant / strong in English they were) where you go?" One guy chased me along the road in a becak (motorbike side car) saying "I just want to help, get in, I don't want money". Needless to say I refused all offers of help and found an ATM, then we got the hell out of Medan.

The journey to Berastagi was fun. A windy road, reminiscent of trips to ski resorts around hairpin bends, though no snow of course. The driver was crazy and overtook on hairpins. Needless to say we made it to Berastagi in record time. Berastagi is a really nice place that has a sculpture of a giant cabbage (don't ask me why). We stayed in a great guest house (Wisma Sibayak if you ever pass that way) where they helped us prepare for our trek up Mt Sibayak with a packed lunch of special fried rice and chicken leg and fruit for about a pound.

Mt Sibayak was an easy walk, most of the climb is on a tarmac road, but once you get off the road near the top the steps are heavily eroded and it's a bit more adventurous. Near the top we spotted fluorescent yellow steaming fumaroles that look and sound a lot like boiling kettles.

We posed for this shot, then the heavens opened. After cowering under a rock for about an hour and eating our special fried rice with rain dripping down our necks we gave up and went back down the easy path. By the time we had reached our goal, the hot springs, we were both incredibly wet. The only dry item of clothing I possessed was my T shirt which the paramo (shameless plug of product I like) jacket had kept pretty dry. My trousers weighed at least double the normal weight (yes ben I know I should have worn lightweight quick dry trousers).

Here's the before and after shot from the same spot. Steve was pretty miserable waking in the rain but I was enjoying it, at one point it was literally walking down a river - the reason why the path was so eroded became blatantly obvious.

Anyway the hot springs (about 40p entrance) were just the tonic after a walk in the rain. There should be more of them in the UK! I was a bit embarrassed in my (quite modest) swimming costume though as Indonesian women bathe fully clothed in public, and even manage to soap themselves down fully clothed. Don't ask me how!

We were forced to carry our still wet clothes on the buses with us to Lake Toba. It was remarkably smooth since the route between Berastagi and Lake Toba is well worn and all the bus drivers knew where we were going. We arrived at Parapet, the port town, got on the ferry and laid out all our clothes to dry in the sun while choosing a guest house from the many available on Tuk Tuk. And that's where we are now, chilling out in a quiet and cheap resort town. Lovely.